ust be done. Even supposing the other
affair comes out all right, London is getting impossible for me. I
don't know who's at the bottom of it, but people have stopped sending
me invitations, and even at my pothouse of a club the men seem to have
as little to say to me as possible. Some one's at work spreading
reports of some sort or another. I am not over sensitive, but the
thing's becoming an impossibility."

"Do you suppose," she asked quietly, "that it is the Engleton affair?"

He nodded.

"People are saying all sorts of things," he answered. "I'd go abroad
to-morrow and leave De la Borne to look out for himself, but I haven't
even the money to pay my railway fare."

The Princess shrugged her shoulders expressively.

"Oh, I'm not begging!" he continued. "I know you're pretty well in the
same box."

"That," the Princess remarked, "scarcely expresses it. I am a great
deal worse off than you, because I have a houseful of unpaid servants,
and a mob of tradespeople, who are just beginning to clamour. I see
that you are looking at my necklace," she continued. "I can assure you
that I have not a single real stone left. Everything I possess that
isn't in pawn is of paste."

"Then don't you see, Ena," he said, "that this thing really must be
hurried forward? De Brensault is ready enough, isn't he?"

"Quite," she answered.

"And he understands the position?"

"I think so," the Princess answered. "I have given him to understand it
pretty clearly."

"Then have a clear business talk with him," Forrest said, "and then
have it out with Jeanne. You could all go abroad together, and they
could be married at the Embassy, say at Paris."

"Jeanne is the only difficulty," the Princess said. "It would suit me
better, for upon my word I don't know where I could get credit for her
trousseau."

"It isn't any use waiting," Forrest said. "I have watched them
together, and I am sure of it. De Brensault isn't one of those fellows
who improve upon acquaintance. Look, there they are. Nothing very
lover-like about that, is there?"

De Brensault and Jeanne were crossing the room together. Only the very
tips of her fingers rested upon his coat-sleeve, and there was a marked
aloofness about her walk and the carriage of her head. He was saying
something to her to which she seemed to be paying the scantiest of
attention. Her head was thrown back, and in her eyes was a great
weariness. Suddenly, just as they reached the entrance, they